


waltz of the vampires

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城伝説 | Castlevania lll: Dracula's Curse
Genre: Lost Love, M/M, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Dancing, Waltzing, one sided pining, or is it really one sided?, who knows they're both gay and dumb as rocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: Alucard walks into the room, its walls dwarfing him. Each thoughtful step echoes throughout the long empty space. There’s so much dust - too much of it - his boots leave behind footprints on the floorboards.He never witnessed the castle ballroom in all its former glory.





	waltz of the vampires

Broken glass, chandeliers shattered into a thousand pieces across the floorboards, and torn curtains gently swaying with every gust of wind. Evidence of a more romantic time. A time of opulence, where masked visitors drank their goblets of blood, bathing in candlelight as they danced. Then there were the things that happened in the shadows; a different sort of dancing. Bodies covered in jewels, silk, and lace moving together. Finally, when the night hours passed and the first light of the morning sun threatened to shine over the mountains, it all came to an end.

Alucard walks into the room, its walls dwarfing him. Each thoughtful step echoes throughout the long empty space. There’s so much dust – too much of it – his boots leave behind footprints on the floorboards. He never witnessed the castle ballroom in all its former glory. Then again, neither did his mother. Lisa came to Dracula at a time when he swore off such decadence. Grew bored by it. Cynical. He no longer found enjoyment in those indulgent nights. Celebrating his bloody conquests, drinking himself silly amongst his own kind while his mortal enemies cowered in fear.

Every so often in the past, curiosity would strike a young dhampir boy. He felt compelled to look within the enormous room that was always quiet and no one ever stepped foot in. Darkness and cobwebs coupled with the eerie sound of wind drifting through filled the space from top to bottom, from wall to wall. Alucard quickly shut the heavy doors and ran off to far brighter places. He couldn’t imagine the ballroom once being host to such grandeur as his father described to him.

As an adult, he tries straining his imagination again though to little success. Maybe it will always be a sad, abandoned chamber riddled with broken elegant shards. Alucard can’t think of any use he would have for it. What good is a ballroom if it only has one occupant?

His attention, followed by his feet, eventually wander towards a certain object tucked away in the nearest corner. If anyone unfamiliar with instruments were to gaze upon it, they would see an ordinary table but Alucard knows better. He opens it, revealing strings and wooden keys along with a small tapestry across the inside lid. He recognizes this instrument; his father called it a clavichord. Not only a man of science, but of music, art, and many other pleasures he deemed as “human”. Dracula did find a fair amount of comfort in them – pity he wanted to destroy it all.

Paying no mind to the accumulated grime, Alucard lightly taps his fingertip against one of the brown keys before pressing down. The brief yet sudden burst of a single musical note startles him. Still loud and sharp after all these years. He repeats this action, one by one, from low to high. A hesitant pause, then both hands begin to move along the instrument with more direction. More purpose. The melody doesn’t sound as flawless as it once did; it’s been far too long. The corner of Alucard’s mouth curls bittersweetly. He’s in need of practice. Yet he plays on, consoled by the presence of music in this lonely place. No matter how sad the tune may sound.

“I think it’s coming from in here.”

The dhampir abruptly stops after hearing two faint voices as they make their way closer towards the ballroom. He turns and sees Sypha peeking around the open door, the wound gracing her upper arm carefully bandaged. Trevor is right behind her, looking so at ease despite everything. Alucard feels a hint of envy for the hunter.

“There you are,” Sypha greets.

“Still sulking about?”

Blunt and to the point – staples of the Belmont lineage. Still, Alucard can’t deny Trevor’s assumption. “You could say that.” He steps away from the clavichord. “Revisiting old memories is unavoidable while walking these halls and entering these rooms.”

“That was you playing just now? You never told us about any of that.”

Alucard chuckles in a bashful manner. All those lessons, all the hours of perfecting every musical note until his fragile fingers grew sore. The enthusiastic demonstrations of his talent to his family and how they both clapped when the show was over, exclaiming how proud they were of him.

“You never took the time to ask. Perhaps if I had found a similar instrument in that museum of yours.”

“Well, it’s yours now so you have all the time in the world to rummage around for another one of those… whatever that is.”

“Clavichord. I’m stunned your family never had one of their own. Unless Belmonts have no taste for musical affairs.”

“I think we did, I just couldn’t remember the name of it. And I enjoy music as much as anybody else does. Like that pretty piece you were playing.”

“You enjoyed that?” First the gifting of his childhood home to a half vampire bastard and now this little revelation. So many pleasant surprises from the last Belmont son in such a short amount of time.

“What was this room?” Sypha asks.

“The ballroom. A place for celebration, frivolity, and the more than occasional bacchanal.”

“So dusty… and it’s completely falling apart.” Like Trevor, Sypha is nothing if not honest – to an almost brutal extent. Maybe that’s just one of many reasons why the two humans get along so well.

“It has certainly seen better days. Dracula used it to entertain and host other vampire lords.”

“You mentioned something about celebration,” Trevor inquires. “Can’t imagine there being much for a vampire to celebrate apart from death and bloodshed.”

“You would be correct. He along with his allies reveled in their power, immortality… then all of it came to a stop.”

“When he met your mother.”

“Long before then, actually. But even though he left this room to the passage of time, I still learned the type of music that once played here and the sort of dances he partook in.”

“Wait, you learned how to dance as well?” The tone in Sypha’s voice is one of both genuine curiosity and the hint that she might start chuckling. Or jest about this new information regarding her friend just as she did before and with Trevor (or perhaps Alucard should refer to him as “Treffy” from now on).

“I told you, my father was a polymath. And it brought my mother joy.”

“How many suitors did those lessons get you?” Trevor asks but before Alucard can give him a witty response, Sypha speaks up.

“You really are a prince through and through.”

“I doubt my skills have held up over the years.”

“I will believe that when you show me,” Sypha demands. Alucard looks at her, then over at Trevor, wondering if either of them recently bumped their heads against something.

“You really want me to show you?”

Sypha nods as the dhampir sighs. Despite his own reluctance, he’d never be so heartless as to deny her anything she wanted. With a soft “alright”, Alucard takes Sypha’s hand and leads her further out onto the floor all while trying to decide what he should teach her. He settles on a simple allemande. It starts as most dances do at first: slow and awkward. They shift about their arms and legs with uncertainty. Alucard offers as much guidance as he can (“move your arm like this”, “higher”, “no your foot doesn’t go there”), but Sypha seems to be somewhere else. Her movements are fluid, spontaneous.

“You’re doing it all wrong.” Alucard says, charmed by her insistence to always do the opposite of what he’s been showing her.

“But it’s so much better this way! This is how I always dance.” She exclaims. Soon their dancing dissolves into shared laughter and clumsiness as they trip over each other.

Meanwhile, Trevor watches from the side, endeared and amused, unable to look away though his mind begins to wander. He’s heard Sypha laugh plenty of times. But Alucard? Rarely so, especially this loudly. Trevor wonders if the sheer volume of his merriment and the way his eyes shut tightly every time his fanged mouth widens into a smile is meant to hide something else. What if it’s sadness? Considering what he’s been through, it wouldn’t surprise the hunter. The dhampir has always been adept at concealing his deeper emotions.

“Sorry that we’re leaving you out of all the fun.”

“Hm? What?” It takes a moment for Trevor to acknowledge Sypha. She looks at him, her expression turning devious.

“Alucard should give you a lesson as well.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“It will not kill you. Loosening up should do you some good.”

“I’m loose enough already, thank you. And I doubt fancy feet over here is as enthusiastic as you are.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that, Belmont.” Sometimes the dhampir surprises even himself. He’s not opposed to teaching him – only because he’s found a new way to embarrass the Belmont. Trevor pouts like an annoyed child but eventually gives in just to please both of them (or to make them stop bothering him, either reason is valid).

He and Sypha switch places. Taking Alucard’s hand, he notices how cold it is. At least in comparison to his warm skin; another reminder of his friend’s inhuman half. But Trevor’s attention quickly shifts when he feels another hand on his lower back, pushing him closer against his dance partner.

“Wait, wait, wait …” He sputters, turning his head in all directions.

“I want to try something different with you.”

Trevor’s cheeks turn pink. _No kidding._ “Fine, but you could have told me.” Unsure of what to do, he lets Alucard pull him along with the first sway of their bodies. Did his own parents ever teach him how to dance? Trevor can’t recall but doubts it. They filled his days with lessons of the sword, not of things that other noble families deemed as proper and socially acceptable.

“That was my foot,” the dhampir croons.

“Shit... sorry.” Trevor adjusts himself, his eyes constantly moving from the floor back up to Alucard.

“That was my foot. Again.”

“I’m fucking trying here!” He stumbles over himself some more until he sees Sypha in the corner, mouth covered while holding her gut as though it’s about to burst from laughter. Trevor’s face grows unbearably hot.

“You’re both terrible, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

He realizes the irony of that statement coming from Alucard of all people. “Alright, I’m done. I’ve had enough.” Trevor wriggles out of his grasp, cheeks still blushed like he had just gone through a good round at the local pub. Whether sober or tipsy, Alucard prefers this look on him. It shows how someone so disgruntled can become so vulnerable. Soft. Dare he say it, even adorable.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sypha rubs Trevor’s back as the three of them leave the room.

“Worst five minutes of my life.”

She and Alucard laugh. They know he’s not being serious.

 

* * *

 

Sleep is a fickle thing. Illusive and stubborn. Alucard thought he had enough, now he desires it more than anything. But that year within his coffin wasn’t sleep. There was no pleasure in it. No dreams, no comfort. Only darkness, emptiness, and a searing pain across his bare chest.

He doesn’t dare sleep in his old bedchamber, not after what transpired there. Better to leave it locked until either this castle crumbles into dust or he does. Yet moving from room to room as the clocks strike well past midnight isn’t helping. It’s barely enough to make him tired. From canopy bed to lavish settee to dusty coffin, Alucard tosses and turns. He quickly gives up with a long, defeated breath. Still awake, still alert. He takes to wandering the halls like a phantom, dim candelabras lighting his way.

There’s a different aura to the castle now; he noticed it the day before. So quiet and calm, eerily so. He hopes he’ll get used to the silence.

Stopping at one of the guest rooms, Alucard gently pushes open the door, wincing at the slight creak. He peeks inside and sees a curled-up figure underneath the bed covers and a head of messy strawberry blonde hair resting against the pillows. To his relief, she remains undisturbed. He has to keep reminding himself of how exhausted humans can become. Sypha in particular exerted more energy and strength than anyone else. She deserves this deep rest.

Before Alucard can leave, he realizes that someone is missing from this room. He checks the others, yet all the beds are empty and untouched. The dhampir then feels a glimmer of validation knowing that he’s not alone in his insomnia. Though it does make him question where his other friend has shambled off to.

Alucard continues his endless trek throughout the corridors, searching. He couldn’t have gone far. Or perhaps he found a way to climb back underground into his family’s archives. It wouldn’t come as a shock to Alucard if he felt more comfortable sleeping down there.

He soon finds himself retracing his steps from yesterday’s little exploration when the ballroom comes into view. Curious, Alucard looks through the open space between each door. Trevor sits like a child in the middle of the floor, a bottle close to his side, staring up at the moonlight shining through the tall windows.

“Odd place to spend the night.” Alucard announces as he saunters towards him while taking note of the red liquid swirling about inside the bottle. Not blood, but something just as intoxicating – to humans at least. He must have found Lisa’s private cabinet of spirits and liquors. Trevor lazily turns to him.

“I just like the solitude of this place. And the moon helps brighten things up a bit.” He notices Alucard eyeing the wine. “Want some?”

“… I suppose a few drinks won’t hurt.” Admittedly, the dhampir always wondered when the hunter was going to offer him a friendly drink if ever. It took him a while, but better late than not at all.  

“Does alcohol even affect you?” Trevor asks while Alucard sits down and takes a light sip.

“I don’t know. I never really drank enough to find out.”

“Never had to drown your sorrows, anger, and every other repressed emotion in it?”

The ideal opportunity to deflect such a question; one that Alucard takes without hesitation. “Like you do?”

Trevor turns away, scoffing. “I already know how you feel about my coping strategies. Or how I deal with… things in general.”

It wasn’t said with any malice or aggression, but the way the Belmont goes quiet after speaking makes Alucard feel a twinge of regret. “I’m sorry for the things I called you. Lucky drunk and all that.” All that referring to some of his more colourful insults.

“You don’t need to apologize,” the hunter assures him. “In fact, I think I should be thanking you. It was a much-needed kick in my ass… but you’re still a bastard.”

Alucard snickers at this. Such a way with words, as usual. A quality that can be irritable and has obviously gotten him into plenty of trouble. Still, the dhampir now finds Trevor’s voice, his mouth, even the words that come out of it, endearing in their own little ways. The two men sit in comfortable silence, staring up at the moon as it illuminates every dark spiderweb filled corner while taking turns with the bottle.

“You know…” Trevor begins. “We had a room like this back in the old home.”

“The Belmonts had a ballroom?”

“Something like that. I remember we hosted dinners and family get-togethers there. Though it wasn’t nearly as big or extravagant as this monstrosity.”

“Did you host other noble families as well?”

“Not that I can recall. We weren’t exactly popular with other nobles. They didn’t hate us, it was more like they were… wary of us, I guess.”

“Intimidated?”

“That’s a better term.”

“Then that explains your penchant for dancing. Or lack thereof. There was no reason to teach you since you never had to impress other nobles or possible suitors.”

Trevor cocks an eyebrow. “Sure, if that’s the conclusion you want to come to. It could also be because all my lessons, substantial or complete frou-frou, were cut short when I was twelve.”

In the middle of their conversation, an impulsive thought comes to Alucard. Trevor might brush it off or refuse, but it is worth asking. “Should we continue then?”

“Sorry?”

“Our lesson from before. I won’t mind.”

“You already saw firsthand how terrible I am.”

“Everyone is terrible at something when we first try it.”

As much as Trevor feels like rolling his eyes at Alucard’s wisdom, he does speak the truth. It causes him to start weighing his options. The dhampir’s offer has to be marginally better than wasting the night away sleep deprived and tipsy from old red wine. “Just as long as you go slower this time.”

Alucard helps him onto his feet. “As you wish.” They assume the same positions as before with one hand tracing the curve of the hunter’s back from his shoulders down towards his waist. A shiver jolts through Trevor, noticeable enough for the dhampir to look concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” Trevor licks his suddenly dry lips. There’s that familiar hue of pink across his cheeks again. It could be from the wine. “It’s just… it’s been a while.” _Since I was touched like this._ The words hang off his tongue until Trevor pulls them back just in time.

Like before, their dancing starts off slow. Certain points of their bodies – chest, abdomen, groin – press closer against each other with every movement. There’s supposed to be more of a gap between the two partners, but Alucard doesn’t seem to mind or care. Some dances are meant to be rewritten and changed.

“Good. Very good. You’re doing much better now.” While the hunter’s attention constantly shifts between the floor and the dhampir’s golden eyes, Alucard decides to guide him further out into the centre of the room.

“Don’t… don’t talk so much. Trying to focus…”

Sypha was right about him needing to loosen up. Despite his minimal improvement, Trevor’s limbs are still stiffer than wood. Perhaps if he were dancing with his Morningstar instead, things would be different. But his body is also warm, so warm that the dhampir can feel it. A few strands of hair hang over his face; Alucard just wants to finally reach up and brush them aside so he can get a better look at the colour of Trevor’s eyes. He holds himself back, embarrassed by the thought.

Slower they dance. Closer their bodies touch. Further their hands roam. Alucard begins to see the two of them dressed in threads much finer than what they’ve been wearing for the past few days. He pictures them moving in the glow of brighter lights while soft music surrounds them. It doesn’t take much for him to get lost in this new fantasy of his. Imagining the castle ballroom when it was alive is easier when he’s with someone else.

“Come with us.”

The dhampir snaps out of his daydream. “What?” He stares at Trevor, who seems to be done with their dance.

“You could come with us. You don’t have to stay cooped up in this musty place.” Yet another surprise from the Belmont.

Alucard wants to say yes. He wants to stay with his humans, no matter how briefly he’s known them for. He wants to take Trevor upstairs into bed. Lay in each other’s arms, listen to the other’s heartbeat and blood flowing through veins, do whatever they please until morning. But Alucard knows that wants don’t often align with needs.

“Thank you... but I insist. If I leave, everything in my home and yours will be left to thieves and decay. You said it yourself, they deserve better than to be left as ruins and a symbol of terror. I’ll stay because no one else will. And I won’t force either of you to do the same. Neither of you should be tethered to me. I know what you and Sypha are like; you don’t do well remaining in one place for very long.” He adds in a bittersweet chuckle. “Go out there, see the world. Help others. And remember to visit.”

Trevor is visibly reluctant but gives in. It’s Alucard’s choice, after all. “Every holiday. We’ll bring presents, food, and more wine.”

“Sooner than that, you idiot.” The dhampir laughs, his head so heavy he can barely keep it from resting near the hunter’s neck. Trevor lets him as his own arms wrap around Alucard’s waist in an almost embrace.

“You smell much better… did you use one of the baths?”

“Couldn’t help myself.”

 

* * *

 

Painted ceilings, diamond chandeliers sparkling in the candlelight, and lace curtains thin enough for one to see the night sky from inside. The soft colours made to look like clouds begin to move on their own the longer Alucard stares up at them. Amongst all the talking and laughing, he hears the sound of a clavichord playing off in the distance. No, not a clavichord. Not quite. It sounds similar to the instrument of his childhood, though more refined and modern.

1797, the very edge of a new century. Three hundred years of change and upheaval. Three hundred years that Alucard missed. He feels like a relic; a historical artifact when compared to all these people in their beautiful gowns and finely tailored coats. The dhampir’s own outfit, drenched in pearl whites and golds, is of the time but only to fit in with the others.

Alucard is aware of the fact that it’s a feeble endeavour. The evening drags on and there are still the occasional side glances he receives from patrons strolling past him. Most are of intrigue while others seem more cautious. Do they know the truth? Are they aware of who – and what – he really is? Perhaps not; perhaps they’re only interested in what he accomplished.

It’s better to avoid them, which is why Alucard has retreated to the edges of this ballroom. Sitting on a chair with red cushions, watching as everyone else dances, mingles, and celebrates. Evil has once again been defeated and the Belmont presence in Wallachia has been restored. Alucard tries not to worry about how long this newly won peace will last for.

_Still sulking about?_ A voice not of his own asks. The dhampir’s brooding expression grows even more despondent. He did what had to be done and there was no hesitation. Dracula is gone, as he should be. His father on the other hand died a long, long time ago. Yet so did Trevor and Sypha while Alucard lives on. That is where his grief lies. It’s been days, there’s been plenty of honest attempts at distracting himself, but he still feels the draw of his coffin. Pulling him…

“Found you.”

Alucard’s head snaps up as he sees Maria standing before him. She wears a dress the shade of pink champagne and her long blonde hair is tied back, held in place by a crown of pins shaped like roses. “Are you feeling alright? I know this can be quite overwhelming.”

She sits beside him while Alucard struggles with his response, not wanting to worry her. “You’re right. It is overwhelming. I needed to get away from all these people.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fight them off for you.” Maria holds up her fists in a mock fighting pose. It manages to put a smile on Alucard’s face, albeit a small one. Though she knows it won’t stay for very long. “Wait. I have something for you.” She says, quickly coming up with an idea. He watches with curiosity while Maria carefully takes one of the many rose pins out of her hair.

“Now hold still.” She reaches over and begins fiddling with Alucard’s loose locks. He doesn’t pull away, but he is extremely confused.

“I… I don’t think this is necessary…”

“I have too many already. They weigh my poor head down. There! All finished.” Maria removes her hands. Pinned onto a thick lock of hair that’s been neatly tucked behind his ear is the very same rose. Alucard touches it, making sure to keep it in place.

“Perfect!” Maria exclaims, clearly proud of herself. “I knew roses were a good fit for you. They make you look more like a prince. Better than that old dusty cape of yours.”

“That was a family heirloom, you know.”

“It was ancient! And I believe it had moth holes in it as well.”

It takes a moment but Alucard can’t help but laugh along with Maria. Her enthusiasm and positive nature have helped make the past few days bearable. At the very least, he has one friend in this new world he’s stumbled into.

“You look like you’re having too much fun.” A man stands before them in a dark blue coat with gold trimming, his long wavy hair tied back with a black ribbon.

“Richter!”

“I’m not sure if either of you have noticed but you’re supposed to act prim and socially proper like the rest of us.” The Belmont quips.

“Certainly not at a celebration like this,” Maria replies. Alucard’s greeting is far more subdued, though he’s just as happy to see Richter. Another friend in a sea of strange faces.

“Then I’m glad you’re both enjoying yourselves. At least someone here is… I actually came to ask Alucard something.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t seen you dancing with anyone yet. Might I have the honour of being your first? Just one before the night is over.”

“… are you sure?”

“Course I am.” Richter rubs the back of his neck as though nervous but remains steadfast in his proposal. It’s admirable – a trait that seems to run through the Belmont bloodline.

“I… alright.” Alucard barely finishes the word “alright” before Maria grabs him out of the chair and hands him off to Richter. He looks into the hunter’s eyes; determined and fierce yet kind and gentle. These are not the same eyes that welcomed him within Dracula’s castle. This is the real Richter Belmont; this is not the man Alucard nearly fought to the death with.

“Shall we?” Walking arm in arm, the two men begin their dance out on the floor. Slow, thoughtful, and familiar. Too familiar. Alucard has done this before with someone different and similar at the same time. Although not nearly as rough as his precursor, Richter possesses the same impulse, recklessness, and drive as–

_No_ , Alucard tells himself. _He’s not Trevor. He’s different._ A fact he can live with. Richter is his own person, he doesn’t need to be a mirror image of his ancestor. The dhampir enjoys his company all the same.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Every night I think about what might have happened if you and Maria didn’t save me. It hasn’t gotten any easier. These people may celebrate now but… in a few weeks’ time when they’ve really thought about what happened to me, their smiles will turn into sneers.”

Alucard’s face softens while his grip on Richter’s arm tightens. “Maria won’t do that. I won’t.”

“Thank you… sorry, I already said that.”

As they share a brief laugh, the dhampir feels some weight lift itself off his shoulders. The time to move on will come, Alucard promises himself that – but not right now. He needs to pay two old gravestones a visit first.

**Author's Note:**

> once again i have not listened to nocturne of recollection yet


End file.
